Treat Me (One Night with Sole Regret 8)

Her words had no effect on his feelings. She wasn’t the first woman to call him that and he knew she wouldn’t be the last. Shade knew he was an asshole. It made his life a whole lot easier.

As she hadn’t followed his instructions, he went to the door and hung the Do Not Disturb sign. After closing the door, he flopped into the chair at the desk and uncovered his plate. Maybe his mood would lighten if he ate. Something needed to blow away the dark cloud brewing over his head. Sex was obviously out of the question.

While he shoveled rice into his mouth, his cellphone chimed when a new text message was delivered. His first thought was that it was from Amanda, so he scrambled after the device. The message and a whole string of others he’d missed either while sleeping or in the shower weren’t from Amanda. They were from Tina. His heart sank with disappointment, and he blew out a long breath before having his phone read the messages to him.

“I know I should call you to have this conversation,” the robotic tone of the app read aloud, “but I’m afraid I’ll lose my nerve, so here goes.

“What I said last night about still being in love with you, it’s true. I do still love you. I never stopped loving you. That was never the problem in our marriage. The problem was I couldn’t trust you.”

Shade rolled his eyes. She hadn’t even tried to trust him.

“I’ve been thinking maybe we should start over . . .”

Shade dropped his fork. What?

“. . . and try to be a family again, you and me and Julie. I think we can make it work. Julie needs a stable environment.”

He did agree with that.

“And wouldn’t it be nice to come home to a loving wife and a happy home and see your daughter as often as you’d like? I know that’s what you want.”

It was exactly what he wanted. Strange how Tina recognized his need so clearly. He just didn’t want her to be that loving wife. Or the not so loving wife.

“Just think about it. Okay?”

He didn’t have to think about it. He didn’t want to be involved with Tina again. As much as it pained him, he was deeply in love with her heartbreaker of a sister. He lifted his phone and thumbed in a short reply: No way in hell. But he didn’t send it. He deleted it before tossing his phone on the bed so he didn’t have to look at it.

Why couldn’t he have what he really wanted?

Why couldn’t he have Amanda?

He glanced at his phone, wondering if it would do any good to call her. Maybe if he got his GED, she’d decide he wasn’t a complete idiot and consider him an equal. Or maybe Tina was the best he could hope for. She said she still loved him—that was something, wasn’t it? Amanda had never said the words. Obviously because she didn’t feel the way he felt.

Shade pushed his nearly untouched food aside and stood to pull on a shirt. He couldn’t stand to sit there alone trapped in his thoughts another moment. He needed to be surrounded by people he could depend on and who wouldn’t make him feel lower than a slug’s slime trail. He needed to be with the members of his band—his true friends. Or better yet, his fans.

After knocking on a few doors, he discovered that he was the only one staying at the hotel who hadn’t yet left for the venue. Had they tried to rouse him or didn’t they care that he was struggling?

No, that wasn’t fair. They didn’t know he was troubled. How could they if he didn’t show his distress around them?

Shade found a ride and smiled as the limo drove past the venue. The show wouldn’t start for hours, yet Sole Regret fans were already congregating outside the stadium and jockeying to be the first to enter so they could get prime general admission floor space close to the stage. Thousands—hell, millions—of people paid their hard-earned money to watch him perform. What did he care that some schoolteacher didn’t want to have anything to do with him? Fuck her.

Shade tapped on the window that separated him from the driver. The glass slid down. “Stop right here and let me out,” he said.

“Here?” The driver glanced anxiously at the black-wearing, tattooed, rough-looking crowd trying to peer through the tinted glass of the limo. “But—”

“Stop.”

As soon as the car stopped, he opened the door before the press of bodies could trap him inside. It occurred to him that he’d busted Adam’s balls for pulling a similar stunt a few days earlier. Crowds could quickly get out of control; Shade knew that. They also stroked his deflated ego; Shade needed that. He realized too late that he should have contacted his security team for assistance before he’d stepped out of the car. But he could command an entire stadium full of badass metal heads to jump and they fucking jumped, so how different could this situation be?

Once the crowd figured out that he planned to stay for a while and that he was genuinely interested in giving all of them some personal attention, they stopped trying to flatten him against the side of the car. Women wanted him, men wanted to be him, and not a single fan made him feel like he wasn’t good enough. Their excitement and adulation lifted his spirits into the stratosphere—made him feel like a god. And he loved them for it. He’d been right, not that he was surprised. Shade was the persona he needed to cling to in order to feel good about himself. Jacob could go fuck himself.

Seeing as that loser got dumped every time he fell in love, masturbation was his best option.

Shade’s phone vibrated in his pocket with the delivery of a text. His heart raced with anticipation. Amanda?

He scowled. Why was that his first thought every time he got a text? Fuck her.

He fished the device out of his pocket and viewed the message from Gabe. Something about Adam writing lyrics. Shade was too flustered to make out the details of the entire note. He couldn’t concentrate on words with all the activity going on around him.

“I need to go get ready for the show,” he said. He’d had his fill of fan worship and if Adam really was writing lyrics, he wanted to see it with his own eyes. “I hope you enjoy yourselves tonight.”

After a few last handshakes and hugs, he slipped back into the limo and the crowd parted to let the car creep forward at a snail’s pace.

“I thought they were going to kill you,” the driver said, glancing anxiously at the fans visible through the windows.

“They love me,” Shade said, with a smile. “Why would they kill me?”

“Not intentionally.” The driver jumped when an eager fan slapped his palms against the hood of the car with a loud bang. People continued to walk beside the car all the way to the barrier fence that had been erected around the tour buses and equipment trucks. After verifying that it was Shade in the car, security let the limo through, but kept the crowd at bay.

“I love you, Shade!” a woman screamed from the crowd as he stepped from the car in the fan-free area behind the venue.

He waved to the people pushing against the barrier fence before trotting up the bus steps. He strode up the aisle and paused at the dining room table. Adam was sitting there with his sketchbook open and he was writing. Not drawing spiders. Not creating the fanciest “the” to ever grace a page. Lyrics were pouring from the tip of his pencil like he had no conscious control over the process. Shade’s heart soared. They were going to be okay. With Adam’s creativity on the loose, Sole Regret’s success was guaranteed.

A long lean body blocked Shade’s path, and he looked up into Gabe’s grinning face.

“Is he writing?” Shade whispered, not wanting to disturb Adam.

Gabe nodded. “It’s as if he can’t stop. He also drew this wicked piece of artwork that we have to use for our next album cover. The dude has amazing talent.”

Adam did have amazing talent. Shade could never do what he did. But he could try to keep Adam off drugs and scrape him off rock bottom every time he found himself there.

Shade pushed Gabe aside and slid into the empty booth across the table from Adam and waited for the guitarist to come up for air. Shade didn’t want to be responsible for interrupting the man’s flow of ideas, but

he did want to witness what he’d feared he’d never experience again.

As soon as Shade settled into the seat, Adam glanced up and met his eyes.

“It’s back?” Shade asked breathlessly and nodded, as if the motion would make it true.

“Yeah,” Adam said, though the haunted look in his eyes didn’t make him seem too happy about his breakthrough. “I guess it is.”

“Any guitar music yet?” Shade asked. He couldn’t wait any longer; he pulled the sketch pad toward himself. “Lats oGodbey” was his first impression of the title, but after a second of concentration, he decided that “Last Goodbye” made more sense. He’d ask Adam to read the lines to him later and blame the man’s handwriting for his inability to make sense of the written words. The trick had worked before; he had confidence that it would work again. “I’m ready to harmonize.”

“And I’m ready to bang out a new tempo,” Gabe said as he leaned his hip against the back of the bench behind Adam and made drumming motions with both arms. His eyes were still blackened from his run-in with that MMA fighter, but he no longer looked like roadkill. He seemed almost as enthusiastic about Adam’s sudden spawning of lyrics as Shade felt about it.